


Make My Heart Pound

by AbbyDebeaupre



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M, First Time, It was really all Ned Gowan’s idea., Jamie shares a honeypot, Outercourse, Set Pre-Outlader, Virgin!Jamie, smut and humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-14 13:11:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16493213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbbyDebeaupre/pseuds/AbbyDebeaupre
Summary: Letitia MacKenzie was on a mission and getting perturbed, why was that young buck, Jamie Fraser, playing so hard to get?





	Make My Heart Pound

**Author's Note:**

> Based on two parts of Outlander:
> 
> The rumor (spread by Geillis) that Jamie had fathered Hamish MacKenzie, Colum’s son and this quote: I’ve not lain with a woman before but I’ve had my hands on a few ...it was verra pleasant indeed….it made my heart pound and my breath come short and all that.”
> 
> Thank you wunderlichkind for beta help that went above and beyond the call!

Three months past, Colum had been stunned into silence, seeing his beloved sister Ellen’s eyes staring out at him from the cat-like shape of the Fraser brow and lash, to see her red hair - shorn and tamed, but undeniably hers - atop such masculine features. Mac Brian dubh Jamie Fraser may be, but in almost every respect his nephew was an carbon copy of his MacKenzie heritage. Soon, he would be heading to the university in Paris.

 

The resemblance to Ellen MacKenzie Fraser was so pronounced, that Ned Gowan couldn’t help but remark on it when they met earlier in his salon. It was Ned who suggested that Letitia arrange an assignation with Jamie.

 

“We do not have much time,” Ned told him. “Jamie is bound for France at the end of the month.”

 

“Christ, ye bastard! First my brother, now Ellen’s son? Have ye no scruples?” Colum’s anger was written all over his face.

 

“May I remind you, my Laird, that you were the one who had misgivings about Dougal inheriting the title of chieftain?”

 

“Aye, true. Dougal may be strong and ruthless, but ye know as well as I that his need for adoration will ruin him in the end. He lacks the wisdom and temperament to rule.”

 

“You have already embarked on a perilous journey and you must follow it to its conclusion. Dougal was the best choice you had to get your wife pregnant with a passable MacKenzie heir. But that road has not borne any fruit.  Now that Jamie is here, and we can see how strongly he favors his mother's side of the family, you have another option.” Ned opted for the coup de grace. “Dougal has four daughters, your sister Jocasta three. Ellen is the only one of your siblings to have borne sons, three of them.”

 

“Dougal or Jamie?” Colum considered.

 

“Why not both?” Ned answered. “There is nothing that says you can’t hedge your bets.  Letitia’s child, whatever his actual paternal origins, will legally be your son.”

 

Quick-witted and charming though Jamie was, it was also clear he was as green as spring grass.Colum recalled that, at first, every time a woman flirted with him, Jamie blushed red as a strawberry. He was a fast learner, though, and Colum had heard enough talk to know Jamie had been getting quite the education on the fairer sex since coming to the castle. He himself had caught the lad kissing the Widow McVitty in an alcove and Angus saw him flirting with Arthur Duncan’s wife down in the village. The young swain might lack experience but was no fool. Colum smiled, remembering Jamie’s antics in trying to dissuade the Duke of Sandringham from his unwanted attentions. He had no doubt that Jamie could handle himself in any situation; and, being a stubborn, bull-headed Fraser, Colum knew no one would lead Jamie where he didn’t want to go.

 

Letitia might make a pretence of resistance, but he was no fool, himself. He understood Letitia’s passionate nature and her longing for a child. Pragmatic to a fault, Colum thought this an efficient way to kill two birds with one stone.

 

“So, you’ll do it?” His gray eyes bore into hers.

 

“Aye, I’ll do it, my Laird.” She demurred and he grunted.

 

“You’ll find it a terrible burden, I suppose?” he poked, for, despite this being his idea (well, actually Ned’s), he felt the sting of irrational betrayal nonetheless.

 

“No more so than when ye asked me to bed wi’ Dougal,” she told him bluntly. Letitia treasured the fact that behind closed doors, she was free to speak her mind to Colum. While their marriage was unconventional, it _was_ a good match, nonetheless. What Colum lacked in size and strength, he more than made up in shrewdness and cunning. “We will both do as we must to safeguard Clan MacKenzie, but it doesna do either of us any good to fight with one another about it.”

 

“Aye, ye speak true. I wish… well, it is of no matter. I’ll ask your indulgence in overlooking my outburst and promise I’ll no’ give ye grief ov’r it again.” That was as close to an apology as he could manage, but it was enough for her to place her hand in his and squeeze.

 

“Even if your son has Fraser eyes?”

 

“Twould be a suitable comeuppance from my sister Ellen, if so.”  

 

o0o

Having set her mind to the task, Letitia had been trying for days to get Jamie to make a move. To her consternation however, the gallant had resisted all temptation. She found herself completely exasperated with him and running out of ideas.

 

In her first attempt, she’d asked him to help her carry a heavy basket to a seldom used storage room. She led the way to a spiral stone stairway, surreptitiously adjusting her cleavage so low, she worried she’d pop right out of her dress. Good thing no one ever came to this corner of the keep.

 

“Are ye sure ye want to take these so far from the servant’s stairs, my Lady?” Jamie had asked, as she urged him ever upwards towards the fourth floor of the castle. She was feeling winded, but strove to keep the appearance of tranquility.

 

“Are yer arms hurting? Shall I take the basket from you?” she offered, turning fully around and making sure to give him an eye-full as her arms came around the basket and her hands came to rest against his.

 

Jamie was staring at her breasts, bolstered as they were so prettily against the rim of the wicker.

 

“Wh--n--no! I’m more than capable!” Was it her imagination or had his voice cracked?

 

“Mmm, yes, I can see that. You are extremely… capable.” Letitia let the moment play out. Frankly, she’d needed to catch her breath. She’d forgotten how steep the climb. The fact that she was all heaving bosom was obviously working to her advantage. But later, as they stood in the darkened little room, he made no move to touch her.  

 

She made a great show of leaning against his arms as he held the basket still for her, emptying linens onto the shelves. The chore required a great deal of stretching up and over her head, and she took the opportunity to fumble off a high step, requiring Jamie to use his lightning fast reflexes to “save” her. He had one hand on the basket, but the other wrapped firmly around her middle. His hand was huge and warm, firmly gripping her hip.

 

“Oh! I beg your pardon. How clumsy you must think me.” She laughed. Jamie was staring at her, unblinking.

 

“Na… I dinna think ye clumsy at all,” he told her.  

 

“No?” She let her blue eyes grow big and sucked in her bottom lip. He couldn’t seem to look away.

 

“You are the very definition of grace, my Lady,” Jamie assured her. Letitia felt his fingers twitch and couldn’t help but notice them splaying down toward her bottom. He started to lean his face down to her ruby red lips, then abruptly pulled away, awareness of their circumstances making the lad more cautious of their isolation instead of less, and the moment slipped away.

 

Letitia tried her best to get the mood back. She made to take the now empty basket from him, for what young man wanted to be seen engaged in a woman’s work? Wondering if perhaps, once his hands were free and his mind no longer occupied with a task, he might reach for her. But he kept that basket locked tightly against the front of his kilt and sidled away from her touch. As a protector of his manly virtue, she had to admit wicker was as effective as any chastity belt.

 

“Well, if there is nothing more, Mistress, I best be off,” he’d said. Letitia shook her head mutely and watched him scurry down the stairs, basket still firmly locked in place.

 

Jamie flew from the side entryway like he’d been shot out of a canon, bizarrely clutching a hamper to his crotch, which he threw forcefully on the mud as he plunged down the path toward the stables. Murtagh followed him at a safe distance, giving the lad time to settle whatever had ruffled his feathers.

 

He’d been keeping an indulgent eye on him. Jamie’s father had insisted that his son make this visit with Murtagh in tow. Ellen’s death had created a thawing of the attitude of her family towards the Frasers and there were things that the MacKenzie could do for Jamie that Brian could not. Colum’s reach was long, he was feared and respected throughout the highlands and into England. Brian knew his son needed seasoning and polish. He’d get the latter in Paris, but Brian had instinctively known being thrown into the shark infested waters of Leoch was exactly the kind of proving ground he needed.

 

By the time Murtagh caught up with him, Jamie was helping water the horses. He silently picked up a bucket and fell in line with his godson. Jamie noted his presence but stayed quiet as they’d moved down the row. Once they were out of earshot of anyone else, though, Jamie gestured toward a collection of hay bales set in an empty stall.

 

“Can I ask ye a question?” Taking Murtagh’s grunt as a yes, Jamie continued, “How do ye ken… that is, when ye’ve got an eye on someone, what’s to say she might be ah…”

 

“Interested in you, too?” Murtagh finished the thought. Jamie nodded once, seeing the smile form on his godfather’s face. “Well… it depends,” he said unhelpfully and laughed at the exasperated expression on Jamie’s. “If yer talking of a lassie, well, they tend to be shy, having little experience, and they giggle and blush and blather and bleat like moon-faced sheep. But ye ken to stay well clear of unmarried girls.” Murtagh gave him a steely glare, knowing that Brian had already discussed this with his son.

 

In fact, Jamie’s father threatened to rip his bollocks off if Jamie debauched an innocent within a hundred miles of Leoch; but Brian, evidently not feeling this was sufficient deterrent, had pressed Jamie hard until he’d impulsively vowed (on his mother’s grave, no less) that he’d stay virgin until he married. Brian laughed mightily as he told the story to Murtagh who gave him a sour grimace in return.

 

“What in heaven’s name was Paris for if not for sowing wild oats?” Brian didn’t take his concern seriously when Murtagh voiced this thought, for he was certain that no young, wild lad had _that_ much self-control. Jamie’s father, with a keen understanding of the stir his charming, six foot three, red-headed son would make, had only been trying to steer Jamie’s wandering eye toward more worldly partners to avoid an impetuous dalliance and the resulting hasty marriage. As Jamie was far more stubborn than the average Fraser, though, Murtagh thought that Jamie would likely end up taking the wrong woman to wife just to put himself out of his own misery rather than break his word.

 

“Of course we’re talking of lassies,” Jamie rolled his eyes, “Ye didna think I meant a lad!”

 

“No, I dinna, but I was speaking of the difference between a lassie and a woman. Women dinna need any eyelash fluttering nonsense. They’re bold and direct,” Murtagh advised.

 

“Aye. But what if the woman is marrit… is that no’ a sin?” Jamie pondered. A large booming laugh rang out and Jamie’s uncle Dougal rounded the bend, coming suddenly into view.

 

“Jesus, I can’t remember the last time I kent a lad this wet behind the ears.” Dougal thumped Jamie’s back, much harder than necessary, and bumped shoulders with Murtagh as he sat next to the man. Jamie’s face turned scarlet and he refused to look his uncle in the eye.  “I worry for ye in Paris, wee Jamie, ye’ll likely die of maidenly shock yer first night,” Dougal added in a mocking tone. Murtagh caught the hurt in his godson’s eyes and winced a little. “Most men find salvation between a woman’s legs, laddie, and while staying a maid may be expected before the wedding, afterwards is a different story. Women, you should know, are cats, cunning huntresses all. If one has ye in her sights, especially a married one, ye can bet it’s no’ accident.”

 

Jamie was biting the inside of his lip hard. He hated feeling foolish and his uncle’s words stung. “Murtagh, tell me at least ye’ve told him which end to stick it in? Otherwise he’ll go to France with the sum total of what he’s learned in the stables.” Dougal slapped Jamie’s back once more and went on his way.

 

oOo

 

Letitia was flummoxed. Why hadn’t Jamie taken the opportunity to try and kiss her? She wasn’t vain by nature, but neither did she believe in false modesty. She’d caught him looking at her when he didn’t think anyone was looking.

 

She went on with her daily tasks as she continued to contemplate the matter. While replenishing Colum’s stock of rhenish in his private rooms, Letitia accidentally came upon Ned and a Fraser clansmen she’d seen with Jamie a number of times. She was backing out so as not to intrude, when Ned caught her eye and signaled for her to stay where she was, hidden from all but his view behind the panel just inside the door.

 

“A chastity vow?” The lawyer was laughing heartily.  

 

“Aye, but mind Brian never asked for such a muckle-headed promise in the first place. Jamie created that mess all on his own.”

 

“Och. Wouldn’t hurt to let him know, tactfully, of course, that his father would never hold him to such a ridiculous notion.”

 

“Perhaps. At the moment, I dinna mind watching the fool panting and squirming around every lass that tries to flirt with him, serves him right.”

 

“As you say, though, it seems to me a persistent woman would get him to the point a lot faster.”

 

Letitia bit her lip to keep herself from laughing, but that, at least, gave her a better notion of what was holding him back.

 

oOo

 

Letitia’s next attempt was an excursion to gather plants in a field some distance away. Jamie had tried his best to suggest any number of other men better suited for the task, including David Beaton, the healer at Leoch, who certainly knew more about such things than he did. Unfortunately, the healer wasn't in his accustomed place and couldn’t be located. He gave in gracefully enough and as soon as they were out of sight of Leoch, Jamie relaxed. He was completely at home riding through the countryside and they fell into easy conversation.

 

Letitia couldn’t remember the last time she’d had an afternoon to do as she pleased, blissfully far from the press of clansmen, petitioners and servants. He was excellent company, helping her gather plant cuttings, teaching her how to skip stones on the water, laughing at her terrible arm. They shared a meal of cheese and apples on the plaid she’d spread on the grass. Between the plaid and Jamie’s body sheltering her from the wind, they passed a lovely hour. The afternoon breeze was kicking up, she turned her head to look at him but found his eyes watching the way the curls of her hair fanned out and fluttered and tickled her face. He reached over and tucked an errant curl behind her ear. She smiled and their eyes locked. He made a deep noise in his throat, sitting up quickly, a piece of grass worrying between his thumb and forefinger.

 

“It’s getting late, we should head back.” He said. It wasn’t until she felt his hands come around her hips as he made to boost her back into her saddle that she realized she’d made no attempt at further seduction. Letitia ended up improvising a quick solution.

 

“My horse has stepped on a rock!” she exclaimed. She made a big show of checking his hooves and making tsk tsking sounds.

 

“Here, my lady, let me have a look.” Jamie made a move to come down and, thinking quickly, she slapped the horse’s rear as hard as she dared and pretended dismay when he ran off at a rapid clip.

 

Thistle would head directly for home, she had no doubt. Letitia almost laughed out loud at Jamie’s uncertain expression, he having no idea whether he should rescue her or the horse.

 

“Oh dear! Well, I’ll just have to ride with you.”

 

“W-with me, milady?” Jamie’s face turned deep red at this.

 

“Ye don’t mind?” she asked, making her eyes go wide with worry.

 

“Of course not!” he replied, then panicked as her foot came up into the sturrup.

 

She swung into the saddle in front of him, wiggling her bottom. Kilts were a marvelous barometer when all was said and done, and she was quite relieved to discover he was not in the least immune to her proximity. She placed a hand on his forearm and held it tight.  His skin was hot from laying in the sun. While he made no overt acknowledgement of his growing interest, Jamie was avoiding her gaze, cranking his head so far in the opposite direction she couldn’t catch his eye. Instead, she tilted her head back and stretched her lips to his ear.

 

“Nay so bad, aye?” she asked. Jamie hadn’t expected to feel her so close. His head swung around and he found his mouth mere inches from hers. The gait of the horse was jostling them even closer together and all he had to do was dip his chin.  Letitia closed her eyes, anticipating the feel of his lips. That feeling was fleeting, however. Just as she was about to close the distance herself, Jamie abruptly slipped backwards off the horse.

 

“Sorry, Mistress, I just remembered, the horse is recovering from a strain in his leg, he really canna bear the weight of the two of us, you go on ahead, I’ll catch up.”  

 

“But it must be close to ten miles!” Letitia protested.

 

“Aye, good thing we’ve flat ground,” Jamie smiled.

 

For a little while, he managed to run beside the horse as she rode, then he began to fall further and further behind the closer they got to the castle.

 

As she got dressed that night for dinner, Letitia wondered if she could possibly corner Jamie alone when the Bard was singing. But she never had a chance to try as he was absent from the great hall that evening. When she casually inquired about him, Geillis Duncan, the fiscal’s wife, told her he’d been so exhausted that he literally fell asleep in his soup come supper time.

 

oOo

 

Jamie woke up grumpy and exhausted from yet another restless night. _God, he was an idiot!_ Letitia was prepared to sit pressed against him for the long ride back to Leoch and instead of enjoying the feeling of her bum wedged tight against him, he’d jumped off the horse like he’d been set on fire.

 

To add injury to stupidity, Dougal’s insults to his manhood were just a few of any number of similar jests from the men taking aim at his chaste state. He realized how foolish his pledge to remain pure until marriage had been, and wanted to kick himself whenever he thought about it. He laughed off the jokes made at his expense as best he could, but the truth was the chaffing was burrowing under his skin.

 

Added to that, he couldn’t stop thinking about Letitia. He counted his blessings that no one seemed to notice his interest in her, or hers in him. Jamie had been driven wild these past couple of weeks by her. She was strong, outspoken and clever. Those qualities drew him like a moth to a flame. Yet his pride had been stung by Dougal and it was proving harder and harder to forget what he’d said about married women. Jamie couldn’t help but wonder what she would do if he showed her how her actions really made him feel.  

 

The opportunity he wanted presented itself much sooner than he expected. After breakfast, Letitia cornered Jamie and asked him to try on a new shirt she was making for Dougal, as they were of a size. To her surprise, he agreed at once and barely batted an eye when he noticed they were completely alone in the room.

 

She felt a little foolish with her hands splayed wantonly across his hard chest, especially when he kept his lips so resolutely to himself. Though his hand _had_ caressed her breast as he’d taken the shirt off and the strangled noise he made sounded a lot like a moan. He was standing before her wearing only his kilt. Letitia looked her fill and her eyes widened when he puffed his chest out noticing her attention. She reached her hand up to brush a non-existent piece of thread off his shoulder and gasped as his hand clasped firmly around her waist. His fingers dug into her bottom just a bit and he moved his leg between hers. His hip rocked back and forth just a little.  He bent down, his thigh wedged tight to her front. Letitia found herself unable to draw in a deep breath.

 

“Did ye get all the wee bits off?” He said in a low voice. “I can move down a little more if it’d help?”

 

“No.” She cleared her throat and flicked again at his shoulder for good measure. “All set.” He pushed her even closer and she made a surprised squeak. His jaw grazed the top of her head and she wondered if he would kiss her now. She found that she very much wanted him to do so.  

 

“Good.” He said. The moment stretched out and he released her giving her a bemused smile.

 

Letitia stepped around him, all business in her awkwardness, and made a show of laying the shirt out on the cutting table and marking it up for adjustments. She kept her eyes on the table and resisted the temptation to look over her shoulder to see what he was up to. When the chalk slipped from her hands and skittered out of reach, Jamie slid behind her, pressing himself fully against her back and bottom, bending her over until his weight pinned her to the table underneath. Her chest tightened and she felt his breath come hot on her neck. His hips tilted against her backside, wedging his erection perfectly in place.

 

Letitia felt a throb between her legs. She let out her breath slowly and pushed upwards once, twice. On the third pass, a guttural noise erupted from Jamie’s mouth. Her heart was beating so loudly, she couldn’t hear what Jamie had bit out in a low, clipped whisper. The next thing she knew, his arm shot out and he snagged the chalk, rising up, and shifting his weight slowly back to his own feet. She turned to face him and was disconcerted to find a smirk on his lips instead of his usual blank expression.

 

“I think ye have what ye wanted for now, no? I’ll leave ye to yer own devices, mistress.” His voice was firm with no hint of embarrassment. Letitia stood still for some minutes unable to think rationally. Though he still hadn’t kissed her, at least she knew Jamie was as deeply attracted to her as she was to him. She rather thought neither of them would let another opportunity pass them by.

 

o0o

 

Colum caught Letitia’s momentary frown of worry before she saw he was looking at her, and her serene mask fell back into place. Column had always liked Letitia in that sky blue that brought out the color of her eyes. They were just about to go down to the great hall for dinner, and she was impeccably turned out, as always.

 

After their meal, there would be a small ball in honor of his birthday. He wouldn’t dance, of course, but his wife, ah, his wife was a swan and every eye would be drawn to her, including Jamie’s whose hot, blue eyes followed her when he didn’t think anyone was looking. He would be off for the coast and then to France within a few days and time was running out.

 

Jamie was nervous, though Murtagh assured him he had nothing to worry about.

 

“Ye ken yer manners, yer knuckles dinna drag on the floor, ye chew wi’ yer mouth closed. Dinna fash, Jamie.”

 

But he was fashing. Dancing. The memory of how close he’d come to giving in the temptation to pull his kilt aside and slip his cock under her skirts had him walking around the castle with a cockstand the rest of the day. A condition that had been all too common lately. That afternoon, he’d snuck into the hay loft and drove himself against his hand to the memory of her lifting her hips and rocking firmly back against him. The orgasm so deeply satisfying that it over-rode any feelings of shame. Aye, Jamie was nervous, he might embarass himself quite a bit tonight, and he reminded himself sternly of his promise to his father to remain a virgin until he married. More fool he.

 

Jamie glanced over at his godfather, his fingers tapping a rapid tattoo against his thigh. “Sorry, Murtagh… wool gathering. What did ye say?”

 

“Ye’ll do fine at the dancing,” Murtagh repeated.

 

Murtagh had been right, as he usually was about these things. Even as he danced with one after another of the ladies attending the ball, Jamie’s eyes strayed to Colum’s lady, particularly striking in this evening’s dress.

 

“She looks bonnie, no?” Jamie’s eye swung to meet those of Geillis Duncan, his current partner for this set.

 

“Sorry?” He pretended to have no idea what she meant. Geillis rolled her eyes.

 

“Ye may try a bit of discretion. Women like a challenge.”

 

“She’s a marrit lady!” He protested.

 

“So am I and that didna stop you from asking would I be willing to share my  honeypot.” She joked. Now Jamie was the one rolling his eyes.

 

“We were having tea and bannocks and ye happened to be hogging the sweets.” He reminded her. His eyes strayed helplessly back to where Letitia was sitting.

 

“I think she must be verra lonely.” Geillis observed.

 

Jamie thought she was the finest woman he had ever seen. Thinking of her caused an inevitable rise under his kilt, she was an unquenchable thirst making his bones shake. She seemed to be looking at him just as intently tonight. After he and Geillis finished dancing, Jamie found he couldn’t ignore his desire to be near her. He cautiously made his way to the dais, making sure to greet his uncle first.    

 

“Jamie, my lad, would ye do yer uncle a favor and partner Letitia for the next set?” Colum’s gaze rose to Jamie’s. “She has done her duty keeping me company this night, but she longs to dance in the arms of a man able to match her steps. I hope ye dinna mind me asking you to be the one to give her what she needs?” There was a wealth of meaning in that request, and Jamie wasn’t so naive that he missed the hidden implications of Colum taking his wife’s hand and placing it firmly in his.

 

“I should tell ye, mistress, that I’ve no’ much experience in dancing,” he said, leading her to the floor. Her touch was burning a hole straight into his wame.

 

“Well in that case, laddie, I’ll be sure to take it easy on ye, it being yer first time,” Letitia teased. Something about what she said got his dander up.

 

“I’m no laddie,” he protested. Too late he realized that he’d let his pride get the better of him and acted like the boy he wished he wasn’t. “I beg yer pardon, Mistress.”

 

“No, Jamie, I was careless with my words, I’m the one who should apologize,” she told him. “Are you excited for Paris?” Letitia deftly changed the subject.

 

Throughout the set, Letitia focused the conversation on his plans for Paris and his studies. Jamie watched her eyes, noticed the sparkle in the glow of the hundreds of candles burning brightly, the silk of her dress so elegant as it slipped and slid when they moved together. He grew hot under her touch, sweat rolling down his back and he knew his forehead was starting to perspire. When the set ended, Jamie made to return her to Colum, but they both noticed he’d already retired for the evening.

 

“I find I am rather warm after that. Would you mind terribly escorting me to the side garden for some air?” Jamie looked like a startled deer for a moment but then relaxed.

 

“Oh, aye, shall I get you some wine as well?” he asked, relieved to have a task.

 

“That would be lovely. Bring the bottle,” she advised.

 

He found her perched in a darkened corner of the garden. She was sitting on the stone wall, kicking her slipperless feet back and forth in the cooling night air. It was such a normal thing to do that he was nonplussed for a moment, seeing the ordinary woman underneath the title and the refined clothes. He cleared his throat, warning her of his presence and was gratified to see a huge smile on her face.

 

He was just about to take a large gulp of the wine he’d just finished pouring when she held up her glass in a toast.

 

“To new journeys and unexpected discoveries. Ye’ll do verra fine, Jamie, in all yer endeavors.”

 

Jamie was surprised but pleased at this and felt a little gauche, not knowing if he was supposed to make a toast to her in return. But he found her act put both of them at ease, and she patted the wall next to her. He wasn’t quite comfortable enough to sit next to her, but he leaned his body against the stone and breathed the cool night air. He could smell her soap. When a strand of her hair came free of its chignon, it tickled his cheek.

 

“About our conversation earlier…” Jamie said.

 

“What of it?” Letitia held her breath.

 

“I dinna wish to assume..that is ye should ken that I canna…I dinna want to--”

 

“What is it?” she encouraged.

 

“There is a vow upon me.” He said in all seriousness and it was only by dint of biting her lip that Letitia didn’t laugh.

 

“Ye’ll be going to seminary?” She pretended confusion and saw the moment he latched onto the convenient lie, giving her an unconvincing small nod.

 

“I’ll miss ye when ye leave” she said softly, finding to her surprise that she meant it.

 

“Mistress…” Jamie groaned as her face leaned in to his and he let himself be drawn down to those wide, knowing lips of hers.

 

A deep rumble caught in the back of his throat, the sound of need she felt against their joined mouths. When they parted, she stroked her tongue against his lips, feeling him give way instantly. At last. Jamie’s tentative tongue reached out to hers, shallow licks along her lips. Letitia’s heart hammered in her chest.

 

 _He’s never been kissed like this before_ , she thought and a little thrill went through her. She boldly deepened their joining, direct thrusts that invited him to come closer, to explore this new sensation. Once he caught the rhythm of it, he proved to be an excellent kisser.  

 

His hand stretched behind her back and then lower down. She felt his fingers tentatively caress her bottom, and her whispered _yes_ halted his progress as if he’d just been caught stealing a bannock from Mrs. Fitz’s kitchen. The angle of their bodies was all wrong and Jamie helped steady her as she came to her feet. Without her shoes, she wasn’t quite tall enough to fit well against him, and she spun them until he was once more leaning against the wall. She readjusted their height until she was able to match his tongue dancing between her lips once more. She lost herself in the soft sounds coming from them both until they were both panting and raw with lust.

 

Letitia dipped a hand between them, catching on the pleats of his kilt. A surprised “Mmphm!” let her know that her hand was right on target. His hands clutched where they rested against her hips and she held her breath. Would he push her away or draw her closer? Indecision paralyzed Jamie, and she took advantage by moving her fingers, boldly cupping him against the folds of his kilt.

 

“Letitia!” A muffled groan rumbled in her ear causing her to shiver at the sound of her name on his tongue.

 

“Shhh,” she whispered, hot against his ear, causing him to shiver and rock his jawline against her smooth skin. She grazed her nails over his hardened length, the heat of him noticeable even through his clothes. “That feels good, doesn’t it?” She drew him back into a long kiss, pressing against his body.

 

“Aye! … no... ye mustn’t. It’s no prop---”

 

“Dinna fash, Jamie. I ken ye wish to remain a virgin.”  

 

“Ye really shouldna be t--touching me so!” he squeaked, but making no effort to stop her hands. If anything, he moaned louder as she took a firm grip of him.

 

“You enjoyed what ye did to me this morning, didn’t ye?”

 

“Aye.” Jamie’s face flushed all the way to his ears. “But my pledge…”

 

“We don’t have to do _that_. There are so many ways a man and a woman can touch each other without losing their virtue. Ye must know that much at least!” Letitia laughed, but saw a deep blush form on Jamie’s upper chest where she’d managed to get his stock and collar loose.

 

“I’m no’ numpty! I grew up on a farm,” Jamie protested. Letitia fisted a pleat and started carefully drawing the kilt upward, skittering her fingers down until the hem rested in her palm.

 

“Mmm. I’ll bet ye learned all sorts of things. But not _every_ thing.”  

 

Her knuckles grazed on the wiry hair of his leg. She could feel the muscles of his upper thigh bunch and twitch. Her fingers drew inexorably higher, and she noticed how hot and damp it was under his kilt. A strangled sound came out on a breathless pant.  

 

“Let me show ye… just my hand. That feels nice, yes?”

 

She raked the nails of her free hand along the nape of his exposed neck, his stock having fallen and been gracelessly trampled underfoot. He was leaning back to accommodate her shift of position. Letitia loved how he craned his head up and back, eager to kiss her once more. His protestations had ceased, and she realized that he had spread his legs wider. How naughty of him.

 

Jamie moaned helplessly as her palm enveloped him. “Oh, Letitia.”

 

Her hand felt so small and light on his skin. He made a low hiss of enlightenment and Letitia soothed him with her lips. She was gently stroking up and down his cock, brushing the backs of her fingernails lightly over him, teasing him with the promise of her touch, leaving him frustrated and needing more. His lips chased hers and he landed an energetic kiss that left them both moaning.

 

“Shh,” she said, stilling him instantly.

 

His expression was full of need, and she watched as he panted through slightly parted lips. Unable to stop herself, Letitia made a tiny sound, like a secret only he knew that caused his hardness to jump under her hand. She ran her index finger firmly over the sensitive tip, feeling the moisture welling up and starting to spill downward. Her finger made deliberate, feather-soft circles.

 

“Jamie?” A soft sound, almost lost under his hard breaths, and she repeated his name.

 

“Aye?” he said in a daze. His throat was exposed as he leaned up in answer.

 

“Do you like what I’m doing?” she asked. She watched him try and swallow.

 

“God, yes, mistress.”

 

“Do you want more?”

 

He shuddered.

 

“Ask me to touch you.” Letitia marvelled at the power she had.

 

“Please,” he begged. He let out a muffled sigh as she palmed him far more firmly in her hand, stroking him with deliberate purpose.

 

“Ye feel so big, what must my hand look like as it strokes you?”

He moaned, letting her know she wasn’t the only one wondering. She leaned down and fit her mouth over his ear, making sure he could hear the moist parting of her lips before she said in a low, clear whisper. “Do ye want to show me yer cock?”

 

“Christ!” The look he gave her made her knees tremble.

 

He hissed as she took her hand away. Stepping between his legs, Letitia reached down and unclasped his belt, pushing the ends behind him and hearing the soft clink as it tumbled to the ground. She spread the fabric out on the top of the wall. His sark was so long that it fell over his hips and covered him once more.

 

“Lean forward,” she instructed and he immediately obeyed, hunched over, allowing her to pull the linen over his head. When he was naked, he seemed completely unsure of what to do with himself. She brought her palm flat against his chest and slowly eased him back, so she could see. His piercing blue eyes watched her every move. Her fingers flicked gently over his nipples.

 

“Mine do that as well,” she told him, noting the hard pucker as she picked up his hand and held it against her breast. He made a whimpering sound and rubbed the hardness under his fingertips over and over again. Letitia didn’t even have to remind him she had another breast, he found that one all on his own.

 

She bent her head and his lips came up, not quite reaching her and landing on her neck instead. She moaned as he kissed it. He was momentarily surprised, not having expected that reaction.

 

“That feels nice,” she told him, “dinna stop.”

 

Jamie chuckled he didn’t dare, for if he did she might cease making those low lusty sounds, the ones he got when he pressed his lips tightly against the pulse point of her throat.

 

Her moans vibrated against his lips and he carefully eased his hand in between the fabric of her shirt. Letitia exhaled as he touched her bare breast. His thumb made hard circles across her nipples. She unbuttoned enough of the dress to free her breasts, then pressed the back of his head forward.

 

“Kiss me there,” she told him. He stilled for a moment, wondering if he’d heard her right. "Please." She was unsure whether those were his groans or hers as his tongue traced lazy circles on her nipple. She was squirming between his open legs, resisting the temptation to straddle his thigh and ease the building ache. Instead, she focused on reaching her hand down to touch him once more.

 

When she had him in hand again, he lifted his head and she kissed him breathless, his tongue unconsciously mimicking her rhythmic strokes. He was groaning now, as she spread her hand up and down, far more firmly than before. He was weeping in earnest,  and she suddenly remembered she was here for a reason.

 

“Would you like to touch me like this?” she asked, palming his cock.

 

Jamie made a raw sound and his eyes narrowed. She felt his hands slowly lift the hem of her dress upwards. Letitia was deliberately wearing much less under her gown than usual, and it took him hardly any time at all to reach her.

 

“Oh,” he said when he felt how slippery she was. His fingers were clumsy, but effective and she was content to let him explore for a time.

 

She slowly lowered herself, pressing her weight against him bit by bit. His other hand was wrapped around her back, pulling her closer. Her own hand was clutched tightly across his shoulder. She wanted more. Letitia pushed her skirts completely out of the way and pressed herself closer to kiss him. He was grunting and groaning as she rocked herself against him. She could smell her own scent and the musky sharp tang of him, too.

 

“Jamie, oh...” she whispered, pushing his hand out of the way as she brought herself right up against his straining cock.

 

Jamie responded instinctively, rocking himself, needing to feel as much of her against his hard length as he could. They both shook with an aching desire.

 

Her hips began making seductive little circles and she started to rise up, needing him inside her, desperate for completion. He was kissing her neck and lips again, his hand firmly wrapped around her backside to hold her closer. He sensed her lifting higher and broke their kiss.

 

“We canna…” he said against her lips.

 

“We aren’t,” she told him, her fingers sliding between them.

 

She started to pump him, pressing the head of his cock firmly against her clit every few strokes. He was breathing into her open mouth and she was so close, she just needed a little more.

 

“ _Please_ ,” he begged and his expression was so full of confused passion that Letitia froze. For a moment, the only sound was their heavy draws of air. She was dizzy with lust, and yet she _would have_ stopped, _had_ stopped but then his lips were claiming her once more.

 

“I need ye,” he choked out. “But I dinna… I canna… _please!_ ” Unable to find the words, Jamie grabbed her hand and pulled it back to his cock.

 

“Shh,” she told him. “Don’t worry, ye won’t be inside me. Watch,” she urged and they both looked down. What must she look like?

 

Jamie had felt the hair there, earlier, when his hand had been between her legs, but was surprised to discover that it covered over the mystery of her womanhood. He had even less a notion of what lay there than he did unseeing.

 

Yet what he _could_ see made him groan. His cock was slipping against her slick folds. He stared at himself moving up and down, back and forth, the head completely exposed, gliding upward, disappearing from view as he moved back. Jamie lost himself in the wet sounds they made and the slide of his skin on hers. His hands grasped her firmly and he began to control the thrust.

 

Letitia put her arms behind her, leaning her weight on her hands and driving her hips in time with him. His cock pushed particularly hard against her clit and she gasped. Jamie did it again and grunted in surprise when her hand pressed his length against her core and she started to rock herself on his cock.

 

“Keep moving,” she urged and he flexed his hips in time with her movements. “I want to see ye come,” she told him.

 

“Oh, Jesus!” he moaned, closing his eyes.

 

Her hips were rolling as she increased the friction of her fingers on him. She was making high pitched noises now, and he started to tremble. The tingling started at the base of his spine and he bit his lip trying to hold it in.

 

Letitia’s hand was twisting and rolling over him in earnest. He opened his eyes and saw her face flush with effort. Her lips were parted and her breath was short.

 

“Now, Jamie,” she urged, gasping as she felt his testicles contract.

 

Jamie’s orgasm raced upwards, following the pull of her hand, and her eyes stayed on his cock. He heard her whimper. For a split second, time stopped, and then he was coming in long, hard spasms. He watched as he spilled over and over again. Her fingers were covered with it. Helplessly, he groaned as she milked him, rubbing him over and over against her honeypot.  

  
  
  
  



End file.
